


ten ways (to say i love you)

by elysiantree



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi, all of these ships are minor, based off a tumblr post, et cetera - Freeform, look man this is really bad, wrote it at 3am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiantree/pseuds/elysiantree
Summary: i. straightforward, in the morning while the coffee’s brewingii. through laughteriii. slipped under your tongue, twisted into something elseiv. instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe” or “good luck” because it means the same thing anywayv. casually, as if you don’t mean itvi. wrapped up in a question. how’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right?vii. under your breath while they sleepviii. with a hand on their shoulderix. hidden in a complimentx. like it’s the only good thing left
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Aeon Hill | Uncanny Valley & Jessica Keynes, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	ten ways (to say i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello my friends and welcome to this dumpster fire

i. straightforward, in the morning while the coffee’s brewing

Juleka hums softly as she walks through the sunlit kitchen of their apartment - their apartment, she thinks with excitement, her and Rose’s. She doesn't know what the song is, only that it’s soft and beautiful. Maybe it’s a song of love, maybe one of longing.

“Jules?” 

She turns at the voice. Rose, with a small smile toying at the corners of her mouth, wearing…

one of Juleka’s shirts. It’s far too large on her, and Juleka smiles in spite of herself.

“What're…” Rose gestures vaguely, at the cups and pastries carefully set up on the table. “What's this for?”

There's a loud beeping noise signifying the coffee’s ready, and Juleka moves to get it. She busies herself with that for a while.

Rose sits down, still looking almost incredulously at the table. She picks up a pastry. “Really, Jules, what's this for?”

“Nothing,” Juleka says, and curses her shyness.

Rose raises an eyebrow, and Juleka blushes.“Oh, it’s - well, today's the, um, the anniversary of, uh, of - ”

“Our friendship,” Rose interrupts softly. 

Juleka looks over at her in surprise.

Rose stands up again and walks over to her. Somehow Juleka’s hand makes it to her cheek and gently traces patterns along it.

“You - you remembered?”

“How could I forget?”

“I - I don't - ” she stammers out. 

Rose gazes up at her, a full six inches shorter at least. Her eyes are blue, so blue. Juleka catches her breath.

She tries again. “I didn't think - well - it’s just me…” 

“And you're amazing, and I love you,” Rose tells her bluntly, then flushes redder than should be possible as she seems to realize what she's said - but what else was there to say?

Juleka lets out a ‘meep’ and awkwardly steps back, moving to the table and sitting down heavily. “Do - do you want a - ” She gestures to the box of pastries, labeled Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie.

“Yep,” Rose says. “Yes, I - yes. Pastries.”

Juleka hands her a croissant, and their hands brush. She blushes again, and hopes to God Rose doesn't notice.

ii. through laughter

It’s the day they graduate, and they're all sitting in the classroom at 4PM, ten minutes before they get out for the day - the year - the life. They've all been hugging and crying (and sometimes kissing) for the past hours, even Chloé, and none of them can accept that -

It’s over. They're all moving on, on to university, on to their own lives and dreams. 

It’s likely they'll never see each other again, and they know it.

So this is the next best thing.

Ivan has his arms around Mylene, both sobbing desperately. She's heading to America to become an actress, and he's staying in Paris to get a degree in counseling and therapy. 

“We're trying long-distance,” she tells her friends the night before, almost apologetically, “we can't not.” But she knows what they're all thinking, that those relationships never work out, and manages to refrain from crying until she's home again.

Now, Nino clears his throat expectantly and steps forward. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he says, and a few people laugh, raising their paper cups of lemonade. “No, I’m serious!” He slides in the seat next to Alya, who laughs again and pecks him on the lips almost giddily. 

“I raise a toast,” he continues seriously, “to us. To our relationships and to ourselves. We've grown a lot over the past years, and hey - how many teenagers can say that they spent high school being terrorized and possessed every other day?”

Scattered laughter, but mostly silence.

He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, uh, you guys are great, and, well, I probably couldn't have gotten through anything without you. I - I love you guys.” He sits back down, blushing.

The room breaks out in applause. Adrien whistles, Alya kisses him soundly, Kim cheers, Chloé gives a begrudging smile and is embraced by Marinette…

I love you.

What simple words. They’re meant for everyone, they’re meant for each person in particular, they’re meant for one alone. 

Who knows?

Maybe it doesn't really matter after all.

All that matters is that they’ve been said.

iii. slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else

Their bodies are pressed against each other, so close they're almost one, locked in a tight embrace against the wall. They're kissing, of course, but it’s more than that - not physically, neither of them are ready to go that far, but emotionally it’s closer to a yacht than a surfboard of a kiss, and their boat hasn't even left the harbor.

It was inevitable, in the end. Hawkmoth has the worst timing, and after months and months of being worked absolutely raw they've…

Well, they've had enough.

And Ladybug, at least, has given up.

He breaks free for air and she does the same, then they're back at it with all the passion of two teenagers that are running out of time to live their lives.

She isn't paying attention, only having room for what's happening now and all these new sensations, filling her mind and overwhelming - 

“I,” she pants against his skin, “I lo - I trust you, kitty.”

Somehow that means more to him than anything else she could've said, and he shows it.

iv. instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe” or “good luck” because it means the same thing anyway

Kagami’s always had a problem with expressing affection. Her mother never does, her father's gone, and she's never had many friends to speak of.

Adrien, on the other hand, shows his love every minute, in any variety of ways. 

And his friends get most of it.

They're sixteen and have been dating for just under two years. Kagami knows he's in love with her friend Marinette.

Which is a shame, considering Kagami’s starting to fall in love too - she just isn't sure with who.

It was her mother's idea, originally. Date the son of Gabriel Agreste, have him fall for you, get married and voilá, the fortune is secured and the (powerful) family is putty in your hands. It all made sense the first time it was explained to her at the age of twelve, when they moved to Paris. All she'd have to do was seduce him, and her mother would handle the rest.

Easy.

And as she’s told herself before, the only setback seems to be that she might be falling in love with someone else.

(Might. The blue-eyed girl chases her dreams, restless and turning, a tornado, but Adrien is there and steadfast, a gentle breeze, and sometimes she dreams about him as well. Maybe she's in love with both of them. Maybe neither. Maybe there's no way to tell.)

“Hi, Kagami!” he cries, waving excitedly at fencing practice.

She lifts her hand and half-smiles. “Adrien.”

He's wearing white, the uniform, and it shines in the sun, he shines, so bright he might as well be a star. He runs over to her, golden hair flopping against his head, and Marinette’s sitting in the stands chatting with her brown-haired friend, and God why can't she make up her mind?

He stops a few feet away from her and frowns, confused. “Why aren't you wearing your gear?”

“Oh,” she says, remembering. “I sprained my wrist.” Holding it out, wrapped in a splint, she hisses at the pain.

“Oh, well, I - get better soon,” he tells her, and blushes before bending down to give her the perfunctory peck.

“Thank - thank you,” she stammers uncharacteristically. “Love you.” She bites her tongue hard.

He stares at her in surprise, then flushes red. “I - thanks, Kagami.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, watching him turn and walk away from the stands.

v. casually, as if you don’t mean it

Jess and Aeon sit on the worn stone wall, discussing politics and love and whatever comes to mind. Jess is slouching against it, fingering the strings of her guitar, and Aeon perching on the edge, immaculate posture - of course, she isn't exactly programmed to be anything but perfect, and she can tell that her (admittedly, step-) sister almost hates her for it.

Aeon is an android, by mere existence better than any human - unshakable morals, flawless memory. Even the stereotypes of robots’ falling-shorts do not apply to her; she was made with assistance of the Miraculous, and as such is capable of love and understanding. In fact, she likes to think she's closer to human than she is to machine…

And yet, she can tell her sister doesn't feel the same way. Jess is undoubtedly, purely human, and because of this can hold grudges.

Perhaps this is the cause of her resentment, Aeon thinks, observing Jess with a keen eye from where she sits on the wall. Perhaps she is...jealous? That Aeon receives so much of their mothers’ love.

“You do not need to worry,” Aeon says aloud, after calculating that there is a 99.76% chance she is right in her assumption. “Our mothers love us equally.”

She is met with a strange expression, a mix between confused and irritated. “What do you mean?” Jess asks.

“Well, I assumed - ”

“Yeah, that’s your problem, isn’t it?” Jess says bitingly. “You and your assumptions.”

Aeon blinks and turns away. 

“I care about you,” she says after a moment.

“Yeah,” says Jess, trying to sound like it doesn’t matter to her.

“Yes,” says Aeon, who is not programmed for slang. “You are my sister, after all.”

Jess makes a strange noise, almost a huff and almost a laugh. “Yeah, I care about you, too,” she says, casually, as if she doesn’t mean it.

Aeon grins and folds her hands in her lap. “Now, on the subject of Boris Johnson…”

“I have a lot of thoughts about him,” Jess snorts, and they are happy.

vi. wrapped up in a question. how’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right?

Luka carefully takes a piece of pizza out of the box and takes a delicate bite, screwing up his face in an attempt to make Marinette laugh. She giggles weakly, and he smiles, but her face immediately falls back into the same frown that it’s been all evening.

He puts down his slice of pizza. “Okay, Marinette. What’s wrong?”

She feigns confusion. “What do you mean?”

He sighs. “Are you doing all right?”

“Of course,” she says, as if there’s no question to how she’s doing. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are,” he tells her. “Look, this is your birthday. We’re on a date. Logistically, you should be happy. But you’re obviously not.”

“I am,” she protests, but it’s half-hearted.

“Aren’t,” he says.

“Am.”

He sighs again and stands up, moving to sit next to her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he picks up a pencil with his other hand and grabs a sheet of paper. She raises her eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

“See,” he says, drawing a circle, “this is you.”

She nods, following along.

“And this,” he draws another circle next to it, “are people that are currently doing okay.”

She snorts at him. “And I suppose you are in the second circle?”

“Why, I am indeed,” he tells her. “Unlike some people.”

She glares at him for a few moments but eventually caves. “Okay, I’m not fine.”

“See, I got you to admit it,” he says triumphantly, then softens. “Seriously, Marinette, what’s wrong?”

She gazes into his eyes and suddenly bursts into tears. He moves to get a tissue, and returns with one, hugging her tightly. 

“Shh…” he murmurs while she cries against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No,” she says through half-sobs, “it’s not.”

And leaves it at that.

“What do you mean?” he asks, and when he doesn’t receive an answer sighs. “Mari...you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah.” Her tears are subsiding. She moves away from him and picks up a piece of pizza. 

She’s the Guardian. She’s the Guardian and she’s going to lose her memories.

(She knows she can tell him anything. 

Anything but this.)

vii. under your breath while they sleep

It’s early morning, and the moon is shining delicately and coldly through his sweeping window. Ladybug rouses, after a moment, and stretches, moving slightly and yawning. 

She looks down at his sleeping form. He’s beautiful, eyes closed and hair mussed over his forehead. She reaches down and gently brushes it aside, and he stirs.

“Good morning, Adrien,” she whispers, a small smile playing at her lips. “I’m sorry I have to go.”

He yawns, mouth in an O, and looks up at her sleepily. “G’morning...Ladybug.”

“I have to leave now. Love you,” she adds as an afterthought, more for herself than for him. She loves him.

Faint surprise registers on his face, but it’s gone in an instant, making way for a sort of peaceful happiness. “Love you too, M’l…Ladybug.”

If she suspects something, she doesn’t show it, only readying her yo-yo. “Bye,” she tells him. “See you tomorrow.”

He watches her go and smiles after her.

viii. with a hand on their shoulder

Marinette collapses on her bed and moans loudly. She’s been training for her Guardianship all day, and is, quite simply, exhausted.

She hears a noise outside her window and smiles in spite of herself, rolling over and wincing as what she’s sure is a bruised rib hits the side of her bed. She knows who it is, but decides to mess with him, just for fun. “Hello? Who’s there?”

Her window opens a crack and she catches sight of two green, green eyes. “It’s me.”

“Me? Who’s me?” she says loudly. “Are you an intruder? Do I need to call the police?”

The window opens all the way and she stifles a laugh as a face, screwed up in confusion, appears. “It’s me, Marinette. Chat. Chat Noir.”

“Oh, of course,” she says, pretending to just realize it, “come in.”

He does so, carefully climbing over her desk but managing to knock over three bolts of fabric anyway. She sighs as they clatter to the floor, thankful that her parents are away for the weekend. She doesn’t want to think of how her father would react if he knew about her and Chat’s late-night rendezvous. 

He walks over and sits on the bed next to her, hands suspiciously behind his back. He starts to whistle.

She smirks. “What’re you hiding?”

“What? Nothing,” he blusters.

“Yeah, okay, then why are you acting so weird?” she asks.

“I’m not,” he says, pushing his hands even further behind his back.

She raises an eyebrow, and after a moment of embarrassed silence he finally caves in.

“Fine. I brought you this.” He shoves a package, hastily wrapped, at her. 

She takes it and pulls off a ribbon, which she makes a mental note to put aside for further use - it’s quite nice. Once she’s finished unwrapping, she stifles a sound between a laugh and a sob. He looks on expectantly.

“It’s my favorite ice cream,” she tells him, and he grins proudly. Then she laughs for real. “How did you keep this cold?”

“It actually isn’t that far between our ho - ” he starts, but she shushes him. 

“No identity stuff, remember?” She sounds almost sad, and he puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, I know you’ve had a hard week, so I brought you this to maybe cheer you up?” he says hopefully, a question more than a statement.

“Oh, kitty,” she says, suddenly overwhelmed by the gesture, “you’re amazing.”

He looks surprised, but grins. “I know.”

ix. hidden in a compliment

Nathanael sketches Marc as he appears, sitting with a sort of dignified grace, bent over his notebook with a look of concentration and a stuck-out tongue that Nathanael, at least, finds absolutely adorable. It’s a simple drawing, charcoal on white paper, and he’s done with it after a few more minutes.

“I finished,” he says quietly to no one in particular, and Marc looks up.

“What?”

Nathanael hesitates, blushing, then turns his sketchbook so Marc can see.

And he does, with an almost adoring expression of surprise. “That’s...that’s amazing, Nath.”

Nathanael blushes at the nickname, and also at a lot of other things.

(Nathanael is finding himself blushing a lot these past days.)

“I was actually…” Marc fumbles for his notebook. “I was actually working on the script for the new comic.”

Nathanael perks up and walks over to him, skimming over what he’s got written. “That’s really good,” he says finally.

“You think so?” Marc flushes red - it’s rather hot in here, Nathanael thinks, that must be it.

“Oh, yeah,” Nathanael tells him, trying hard not to sound sarcastic, “it’s great.”

It seems to work, as Marc smiles widely. “Thanks,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and they fall into an awkward silence, both of them blushing harder than either thought possible.

x. like it’s the only good thing left

She lies on the ground, in between the rubble of the mansion and boulders tossed by Stoneheart and people, unconscious from the mental toll of being akumatized for nearly two days straight.

Next to her is Chat Noir.

Chat Noir is her partner, her best friend, her everything. He’s currently Adrien Agreste, and she’s not sure whether he’s alive or dead.

He stirs, after a long minute, and she takes in a sharp inhale that’s almost a sob - of relief, of sadness that he’s about to realize what she’d realized the hour before.

Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth, and his body is laying dead on the ground a few feet away, next to the shadow of his assistant, who could barely stand even before he used her as his catalyst.

So Adrien stirs, his face barely twitching, and as soon as he opens his eyes she throws herself on him, sobbing openly, desperately, getting all the tears she has out before the inevitable numbness captures her like she knows it will.

She can see Alya and Nino in the background, but before she can move to go to them Adrien’s arm automatically goes around her and then they’re both crying, and she realizes that he’s seen his father.

When they’re out of tears they lie there, on top of each other, all tangled limbs and too-dry eyes, and in an instant it hits her. They might not get out of this alive. 

And so she does the only logical thing that comes to mind.

“I love you,” she says quietly, and he looks up with streaks down his face. He’s filthy, and she knows she is too.

“I love you,” he repeats, as if he can’t believe it, but it’s enough for her, and she starts crying again, just a few tears running down her cheeks.

“I love you.” The words come with a soft sigh, beyond exhaustion and despair and worry, and somehow she means it more than she can mean it.

“I love you too,” he tells her, and their lips crash together.

**Author's Note:**

> thnaks for reading and leave a comment and kudos if you liked it!! 
> 
> tumblr @an-elysian-tree, hmu


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